


Blind Spot

by jeniac



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeniac/pseuds/jeniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If someone had told Walt a year ago that he'd be spending this Christmas with a former student, he'd needless to say be skeptic. Walt's not sure how he ended up here, swaying back and forth where he's standing in Jesse's living room, more drunk that he's been in months, but here he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 If someone had told Walt a year ago that he'd be spending this Christmas with a former student, he'd needless to say be skeptic. Walt's not sure how he ended up here, swaying back and forth where he's standing in Jesse's living room, more drunk than he's been in months, but here he is. 

Jesse's still laughing, holding onto the back of his couch like he's trying to keep himself from collapsing onto the floor. It's bizarre, what they're doing right now. But at the same time he suppose that it's been inevitable, somehow. With where they are right now, what they've been through together this year.

Jesse doesn't have much in his life anymore, he's made sure to let Walt know of this many times. The dead look on him is enough of an occasional reminder to keep the guilt weighing in the back of Walt's mind, knowing very well that he's rightfully been blamed as the reason for most of his misery. But the kid is lonely, and Walt's all he got, so of course he's going to let him in. Of course.

And then there's Skyler, knowing what she does, feeling how she feels. Looking back at what happened he cringes, wishes he could go back and stop himself. Assuming that he deserved to be invited over for dinner was ridiculous to begin with. Showing up on their door step, drunk, was downright idiotic.

He hates himself for it, knows that no excuse is gonna explain why he did it and keep his dignity intact at the same time. And their reactions might have be the worst part of it, the memory coming in flashes through his mind. The concerned look on Junior, holding a door knob with a tight grip, Hank and Marie eaves-dropping from the couch, not sure if they should get up and help or not.

Skyler slamming a door in his face, leaving him to stumble away in the cold, the snowy winds hissing at him, mocking him. 

Yeah, he can even guess that this has been a long time coming. 

 

And he's not sure what had made him think of Jesse right then, gripping the steering wheel and driving over to his house, but he did. 

 

It's dark outside when he arrives, and he's been sitting in his car for minutes now, just staring at the goddamn place. It looks small next to all the neighbors houses, covered from top to toe in sparkling lights and decorations. It looks cold, hiding among the shadows of trees on the lot. There's lights on, a source of warm light coming through one of the curtain free windows, but only on the bottom floor. 

Walt weighs his options here, not sure if this is a good idea. Jesse could be asleep, forgotten to turn the lights off. Walt would wake him up, and then he'd be facing yet another angry person and without a way of explaining himself.

Jesse might not even be home, probably gone out to get high with whatever acquaintances he's got left. He should probably just leave, go home and sleep it off. He's probably the last person Jesse wants to see today.

Guilt washes through him, and he wonders when family stopped being something he felt assertive about. 

But what makes up his mind is the probability that Jesse might be spending his night all alone. And there's also his own partly selfish need for company right now. He can't stand being alone tonight. It would be too much, and he's not sure what he'd do about that.

He knocks on the door hesitantly. He feels ridiculous, fucking _nervous_. When Jesse doesn't open the door he once more considers getting the hell away from here, and hope that in the morning he won't remember ever being here in the first place. 

When the door finally opens he's startled, stumbles back a little and squints in the sudden light. His eyes adjust and there is Jesse, staring at him.

" _Mr. White?_ "

Walt can't figure out exactly what the kid is thinking other than shock. He looks taken aback, surely, his eyes a little wider than usual. But there's no real hint of anger or disappointment, and there's a relief in that. He's had enough of that for one night. 

Walt scratches the back of his neck at the same time Jesse does. He's embarrassed, and for the first time he doesn't know what to say to Jesse that could actually explain what he's doing, so he says the first thing that comes to mind and hopes for the best.

"Merry Christmas?"

Jesse frowns, but there's a hint of a smile in there too. He probably expected this to be about work, Walt realizes.

"Why aren't you with your..." Jesse stops himself then, looking at him a little closer. "Are you drunk?" 

Walt pathetically tries to hide the bottle behind his back, but it's useless. He's practically got  _alcoholic_  written all over him. He coughs a little, feeling uncomfortable.

"That obvious?" He smiles, can't even look at the kid when he says it.

When he does, Jesse's got that familiar look of worry on his face. A small frown, blue eyes filled with focus. Just pure empathy. 

Walt doesn't really mind it these days. He savors each one,  _wishes_  he could give it back twice as much, knowing that he never will. He stumbles forward and Jesse catches him, a solid hand on his back. And this close, Walt can't hide the tears in his eyes.

Jesse moves to the side, still holding onto him cause he  _cares_  about him, and Walt has no fucking idea why.

"You wanna come inside?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

Walt knows that this is just Jesse desperately trying to make him feel better. He knows this, but there's also a long and green bong badly hidden behind one of the huge speakers in the room, like it's been thrown there in a rush, so he's also pretty sure that Jesse had planned to drink all this beer long before he even showed up.

He's not so sure why it's so important to Jesse to hide his mistake from him. It's not like he's angry at him for having failed to stay clean, especially not on Christmas. It was only a matter of time. He wont call him out on it, though, not tonight because he knows that Jesse wouldn't want him to, and whether or not Jesse's throwing this two-man party out of pity for the both of them it really doesn't matter, because he's actually enjoying himself here. And God knows Walt could use a little more of fun in his life.

Jesse's still by the couch, trying to steady himself with two hands like he's struggling between laughing and wanting to puke at the same time. He's got his eyes closed shut, head hanging low, and the whole room is spinning around them.

Walt's standing across the room watching him, smiling because it's simply too entertaining not to. He feels good. A little satisfied and proud that he managed to make Jesse appear so _ridiculously_ happy. His chest flutters with affection for him, a fondness that occasionally makes its way around and reminds him of all their history that's often so taken for granted. He chuckles and takes another sip from his beer. 

Jesse's calmed down a bit, now leaning on his elbows and trying to catch his damn breath. He's running his fingers through his hair, looking over at Walt with a smug smile. Walt likes the look on him, and the smile is definitely contagious.

He then stands up, but like the moron he is he just trips over his own feet and awkwardly stumbles backwards. He waves a hand in Walt's face when he walks over but Walt grabs at him anyway, a heavy hand his shoulder to steady him.

"You idiot."

"Yo, I totally got this--" His knees buckles, Walt catches him, pulls him back up again.

"Sure you do." He grabs Jesse's beer and pats him once on the shoulder, ignoring his exaggerated complaints as he makes his way around the couch. He sits down, puts Jesse's beer on the table, and Jesse slumps down next to him. 

"This is so... uhm, I don't even know." Jesse snatches his beer back and turns towards him, one arm draped over the back of the couch.

"What do you think? This is weird, I mean, _right_?" 

Walt pretends to think about it. "I suppose it is." He says.

"Oh, you suppose it is?" Jesse's smile widens. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I _suppose_ so." He says in a ridiculous gruff voice, frowning and nodding.

"Totally." He bursts out laughing, shaking his head. "I suppose it is. Jesus..." He looks over at Walt.

"Nah, this is _totally_ weird."

"You are horrible at impressions."

"Screw you! I'm funny as shit, man."

Walt presses his lips together, takes another sip. "I wont argue with that." 

Jesse scoffs, pushing him on the shoulder. "Dick." He mutters, wiggling his beer a little. It's empty, so he reaches over and grabs another one. He pops the cap, leaning back on the couch again, their shoulders brushed up against each other. 

He throws the bottle opener across the room. "You're just boring, that's why you never laugh at my jokes."

"If your jokes weren't boring, then I would laugh at them."

Jesse turns his head over to look at him. "That's such a boring thing to say, like, out of the two of us? I'm obviously the funny one, how is that even a question?"

"Yet I'm the one making you laugh, isn't it interesting how things work?"

"Oh, come on!" Jesse laughs despite himself, and Walt smiles victoriously. Jesse pushes him again, pointing his beer at him.

"No, you asshole! This doesn't count, it doesn't count when I'm drunk. Anyone's fun when you're drunk."

"Clearly not everyone."

Jesse punches him this time. "Shut up and tell me like _one_ time you did something that I would laugh at, like, _completely_ sober."

Jesse leans back in the couch, sipping on his beer, looking smug as ever. Walt considers it, then;

"Santa Claus."

Jesse frowns, smiling, confused. "Uhm, what the fuck?"

"I dressed up. Uh, you know, for the kid."

Jesse's face went blank. "Wait, wait, like..." He leans forward. "Like, the whole package, right?"

"Beard and all."

A smiled creeps over Jesse's face and he suddenly collapses against Walt's body, giggling hysterically into his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut, nuzzling his forehead against the collar of Walt's shirt. "What, that's _it_?! That is so lame!"

Walt turns his head to look at the boy, can feel a clumsy fist tugging on his shirt, a hand on his thigh.

"Holy shit, I'm so drunk," Jesse breathes out, holding back another giggle. His body gives out and he falls into Walt completely, and suddenly he's got the boys head in his lap. It takes him by surprise, but he's also absolutely too drunk to care or make any effort to move him.

It's sort of intriguing, actually. Definitely not boring. Jesse stretches his body out with a long, content groan before he comfortably settles in, apparently not planning on getting up either. 

He's got his beer in his lap, holding it with both hands, and one foot dragging lazily over the floor. Walt reaches over and puts his own beer on the table, then sits back with his hand on Jesse's stomach in somewhat a reflex, the thin fabric of his t-shirt wrinkling as he strokes him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Jesse yawns, tilting his head back to look up at him, all the energy suddenly gone out the window. "I'm fine."

The back of his head is digging into Walt's lap, and the heavy weight on his crotch feels good. He moves his hand up and down Jesse instinctively, like he's a pet, stroking him in a soothing motion. 

Walt smiles, looking down at him. "Yeah, you sure?"

"Sure." Jesse smiles. He lets his eyes flutter shut, then lifts his head, looking nauseous. "Bad idea."

Walt nods, that affection clutching in his chest again. He hesitantly reaches a hand up to Jesse's head, letting it awkwardly hover there for a second, then slowly runs his fingers through the soft hair.

He brushes Jesse's fringe back from his forehead, can feel the sweat damp on his roots, keeps the motion going until the hair flops back down again, ten times messier than before. Jesse's face is flushed from the alcohol and he's sort of just staring blankly down at his bottle, rubbing the rim of it with a thumb. He looks tired and zoned out, like he can barely keep his head up. Everything about him is so ridiculously innocent.

Walt's drunk enough to willingly admit to himself that Jesse looks... cute, like that. With the lack of a better word. He scratches the side of Jesse's head where the hair is a little bit shorter, then pulls it up to the side, enjoying the feeling of cool hair tickling between dry fingers. Jesse hums approvingly, resting his head back in Walt's lap again, closing his eyes with a little more caution. 

He suppose that Jesse's right. Walt can clearly see why this would seem weird. They're always fighting, always on each other about something, that thick and constant tension between them. Yet here they are, cuddled up together on Jesse's couch. 

It's so quiet in here, just the faint rattling on the windows from the icy winds outside. 

Jesse breathing softly beneath him, his head in Walt's lap. Walt's fingers running through his hair, petting him. It feels so natural to him, almost fitting. And for the second time that night he wonders if them ending up here isn't so strange after all.

 


End file.
